Back in September 2011, when I first moved to Dublin, I asked one of my then-new flatmates to recommend me some up and coming Irish artists. And she told me about this band of Dublin teenagers that she loved, Little Green Cars. So it was that I first listened to ‘My Love Took Me Down To The River To Silence Me’. At the time I was struck by Faye O’Rourke’s brilliantly powerful vocals, but since then the thing that hits me about the song – and, indeed, the thing that is striking about every Little Green Cars song – is the overall use of vocal harmonies. The way their array of voices meld together is quite phenomenal and really just kind of beautiful, and it was for that reason I put them on my Sounds of 2013 list earlier this year.
On their debut, Absolute Zero, these sublime vocal harmonies take precedent, and there is something incredibly rich and warm about the feel of the album as a whole. Each song flows cohesively into the next, sometimes glorious and euphoric, sometimes delicate, slow-burning and intimate and, overall, it is a very sweet little album.
The lyrics can be devastatingly romantic, with moments like “and if you love me, for how I see myself/you must be crazy, or think I’m someone else” in a delicate Sufjan-esque voice. Lyrics like that highlight a theme of what I currently perceive to be the perfect encapsulation of young adult awkwardness and neuroticism but, realistically, it’s probably quite a timeless sentiment. These impressively knowing love stories that their songs tell – “you go outside dressed like that, you knew what was going to happen didn’t you?/You talk to me like that, you knew I was slowly falling in love with you” and “if I thought you loved me once, then I’d be happy forever” – are so wonderfully executed, sometimes with that sad tinge of desperate naivety, sometimes just all-out lovely and optimistic. There are some warming little electronic elements coming into their sound too, notably in the lush quiet of ‘Red and Blue’, and overall everything just comes together really nicely, adding to a distinct, enchanting charm that runs throughout the album.
I would argue that, upon early listenings at least, the strongest tracks on the album are still their earlier releases, with ‘The John Wayne’ particularly coming to the fore as an outstanding song. That refrain of “it’s easy to fall in love with you” is perfect. But it would do Absolute Zero a disservice to describe it as anything other than a really, really lovely listen and, while it leaves me with a sense of content, it is certainly an album that makes you more than a little excited to hear more from the band.
‘Absolute Zero’ is out now, and you can buy it here.
I can’t be the only person for whom the phrase “Oh So Quiet” conjures up images of Bjork dancing exuberantly around the streets, but it is also the name of a musical duo, originally from Argentina – now based in Surrey – who make intimate, pretty, acoustic songs that twinkle gently and slowly flow into something quite majestic.
Oh So Quiet‘s eponymous debut EP showcases a nuanced understanding of starry-eyed folky songs with romantic, lullaby lyrics and intricate guitars that build up into soaring crescendos and there’s something quite nicely slow-burning about it all – think long instrumentals that aren’t rushing to get to the next chorus. ’Rain At Night’ is the single and for me the stand-out track. Maybe I’m going to overuse the word “pretty” in this write-up but I think that kind of sums it up. That wholesome, naturalistic, tender way that the song – and, indeed, the whole EP – washes over you, is sort of wonderful. It’s got that earthy, Latin-y warmth of early Devendra, if with more in the way of instrumentation and male and female vocal harmonies – perhaps reminiscent too of some of the more stripped back early Arcade Fire songs.
Lovely night time listening, the ‘Oh So Quiet’ EP is a nice little release for those into their pretty alt-folk.
The EP is out on Monday 29th April on Cool For Cats Records, and you can stream it here.
It is a cold evening in Dublin when I go to meet Jesse Rutherford of rising Californian band, The Neighbourhood. Cold to the point where the prospect of heading outside for a cigarette is not tempting to the singer – “Is it okay to smoke inside?” he asks me as he takes a seat. I shake my head hesitantly because, of course, Ireland was one of the first countries to ban smoking in public places. After a moment of glancing around the empty bar we’re in he gets his lighter out anyway, murmuring with a hint of a smile, “Fuck it”.
It is immediately apparent, then, that the slight figure sitting opposite me dressed all in black – now dragging on a cigarette – is perhaps just as fascinating as all the initial mystery surrounding the band has suggested. Admittedly this is somewhat detracted from later on when we nervously debate as to whether a solitary cigarette is likely to set off a fire alarm and whether there might be a sprinkler system, but ultimately there’s no denying that there is a certain sense of intrigue and cool about The Neighbourhood.
When they first appeared on the music scene in early 2012, there was no information to be found about them online – just the band name, the songs and video clips which displayed a penchant for a certain grainy black and white aesthetic. ”The black and white thing is The Neighbourhood, you know? Like, we think in black and white.” He pauses as if to consider how best to phrase it. ”You know when something feels right – like, did you ever have a pair of shoes that fit you just right? And then you went to the same store to get another pair and they looked the same and they still looked cool…but they’re like half a size off? I think we have the perfect fit. It feels like we write our music with black and white in mind.”
With that idea of ‘black and white’ in mind, then, is there a specific style or sound that they’re trying to emulate or create when writing their music? ”We came up with the music that we write because there are just a lot of bands that sound alike out there; on the radio so many artists sound alike.”
So just what is it about their sound that Rutherford thinks sets The Neighbourhood apart from those other bands on the radio? ”I come from a hip-hop background myself – like, I really love hip-hop, that’s all I listen to really…”. He’s not exaggerating either, spending at least five solid minutes enthusing about the likes of Game and Kanye. He goes on to laugh a bit as he confesses, “Rock music just doesn’t affect me in the way that hip-hop does – I don’t know why. I feel like I’m supposed to be more affected by rock music, y’know? But…”, he trails off. I tell him that I think a powerful song is a powerful song, regardless of genre and it seems to rouse him again, “Exactly! The production of hip-hop – like, the way a beat hits me, the way that an MC will say what he or she is trying to say, I think it’s just really cool.
“We’re definitely influenced by hip-hop when it comes to our drum production. So when we create music, I guess we’re trying to fill a certain void. At the end of the day, I think the structure and the melody of our music is pop – it is – but that’s so broad! We’re played on ‘alternative’ radio, so we’re apparently the alternative to something else.”
Certainly The Neighbourhood aren’t making pop quite like anybody else out there – their songs are full of sparse, incredibly atmospheric instrumentals, swooning, clean drums and vocals that are unusually fluid and soulful with something of a dark aura about them. “My voice – like, I know nobody else has my voice”, Rutherford agrees with an air of self-assurance, “And I think that sets us apart. I’m not trying to say I’m the best singer in the world or anything, just that nobody has the exact voice I have and it helps give us this distinct sound that people can’t quite place.”
With the release of their debut album approaching, I ask Rutherford whether ‘I Love You’ will be in the same vein as their previously released ‘I’m Sorry’ EP. ”I think we’ve definitely grown – the songs have gotten better, the production value is bigger in the right places – and more contained in the right places at the same time. I think it’s the growth of a band, you know. The growth of The Neighbourhood.”
It is apparent from talking to him that Rutherford takes The Neighbourhood very seriously and, as such, I suggest that he must have found their inclusion in the Blog Sound of 2013 Shortlist reassuring. ”Um yeah, I mean it’s kinda hard to say! I mean, like, we put out music because we like writing songs that we like – so when we like them it feels great already, but if other people like them it just feels even better. We got to where we’ve got right now because other people like our songs. So it was definitely exciting, yeah – we’d heard how important that list is out here? I think it’s a pretty important list?” He speaks in a confident but hesitant rush of tangible elation, something true throughout the interview – it’s as though Rutherford has always been confident of his band’s potential but, now things are actually happening for them, even he’s pinching himself.
This shouldn’t necessarily be too surprising given that, although he is the second oldest member of the band, Rutherford is in fact only twenty-one. The singer dismisses the suggestion that their age makes all that much difference, however, “I mean, I don’t really care about stuff like that – I wish I was seventeen, I think that was the coolest age to be, I don’t know why. I guess if you have a career before the time you’re legal in your country then that’s pretty cool.”
There’s no denying that things are looking more than just ‘pretty cool’ for The Neighbourhood right now, and Rutherford is seemingly still taking it in. “I’m excited. It’s just so cool to have any of this – like, once a day, at least, I’ll be outside smoking a cigarette with our tour manager or one of the guys and, like, I’ll have a big sentimental moment like ‘fuck, I’m in Ireland with my best friends and we’re doing this – this is my job‘.”
Rutherford seems blissfully content but at the same time incredibly driven for the band to achieve more. With that said, he’s not taking himself too seriously – certainly he’s not above cracking jokes about himself, admitting that no matter where he goes he ends up “feeling like a stupid American”, having made the social faux-pas that morning in Dublin of announcing their arrival in the UK.
There are no such missteps at their show that night, though, and it is again with that almost-defiant air of confidence that Rutherford and the band take to the stage. There is something about the singer’s personality that seems to draw the crowd in, although Rutherford for his part seems quite unaware of his stage presence, appearing quite content to just get lost in the music.
As I watch them perform, I can’t help but think of something Rutherford said at the end of our conversation – something that might explain his lack of being phased on stage and, moreover, his general confidence in The Neighbourhood and their music. I asked him if he’d have any advice for aspiring musicians, and the question seemed to strike him more than anything else we spoke about that evening.
“If you have nothing else, then you’ll get it. I only say that because that’s where I was. If you have nothing else. Then the main thing is to be fucking honest. So many people I know make music – they write good songs, there are rappers with good flow, but it’s all bullshit if it’s not real. Be honest. If you’re a piece of shit, tell the world you’re a piece of shit. If you’re fat and ugly, tell the world that you’re fat and ugly because that’s what the world’s gonna appreciate. If you’re beautiful, tell them you’re beautiful. Some people might not like it, but honesty is the closest chance you have to making it.”
That they came from nothing perhaps explains Rutherford’s tentative awe that The Neighbourhood are really making it, but that ultimate self-assurance they have is arguably the result of his belief in honesty. Rutherford is confident enough in their sound to know that what they’re making is good and that they’ve genuinely got a shot, and he’s not about to shy away from letting the world know. With ‘I Love You’ out in a week, it’s about to become apparent whether or not Rutherford’s been blowing hot air about all this. But, to heed his advice about being honest, from what I’ve heard and seen at least, The Neighbourhood are making some wonderful, seductive pop and, as such, I’d say ‘I Love You’ is an album very much worth getting excited about.
‘I Love You’ is the debut album by The Neighbourhood and it will be released on April 22nd on Columbia Records. You can pre-order it here. Many thanks to Jesse, the band, and a special thanks to Darren at Sony.
In Hindi, “khushi” means happiness or joy or something along those lines – my questionable ability to speak my mother tongue aside, there is certainly something that’s quite joyful about listening to the music of London born singer-songwriter Khushi. Part of the excellent aforementioned Strong Asian Mothers, his solo work has less of their lithe electro stylings, instead opting for some soothing, wholesome acoustic pop that is kind of lovely.
His vocals are impressively varied, with a falsetto like a caress and a lower range too that’s perfectly intimate and endearing as he sings poignant lyrics about romantic things. The instrumentation is really nice too, with swathes of piano and fluid undercurrents of pretty guitars and a soft patter of drums. Sometimes the music is upbeat and quite euphoric (‘When You Start’), sometimes it’s much more withdrawn and slow (the beginning of ‘Phantoms’); there is always something a bit different about it though, something that makes it different from that standard middle-of-the-road label that tends to come with being a singer-songwriter. Perhaps it’s in that hint of his electro background in moments like the vocal loops and the brass samples in ‘Magpie’; whatever it is, it’s exciting.
Khushi has recently started playing live shows in London and it can only be a matter of time before his soulful sounds start attracting more attention. As of yet his music is great to listen to, certainly, even if there’s not very much out there as of yet. There’s something about the four tracks he has put out, though; something that seems to be implicit of something exquisite to come and I guess that in itself is quite happiness-inducing.
My life is becoming consumed with essays and deadlines and social obligations – I’m not necessarily complaining about any of these things, but it has made sitting down and actually writing something more than a passing comment on what I’m listening to a bit difficult. But, currently sitting in my new home – the library – I’ve just discovered the music of San Francisco’s Isaiah Williams – better known as Howlings, and felt the urge to share his music.
Sweeping, slow, strange electro that surrounds your ears and is surprisingly emotive (notably the beautiful and disarming ‘Don’t Leave Me’, embedded below), there’s not necessarily anything groundbreaking or hugely different about Howlings’ music. Yet, there’s something undeniably pretty and worthy about these often quite sad songs and they’re kind of lovely to listen to; all gentle, starry beats, sublime, glittering instrumentation and occasional delicate, whispering vocals. I suppose that time will tell but, as far as the stuff that’s up on his SoundCloud goes, it seems like Howlings might be onto something quite special.
In general, this time of year isn’t one I would personally associate with being any more or less loved-up than another part of the year; in general, I’m fairly cynical about the concept of Valentine’s Day and the hearts in the shop windows and sudden buying of chocolates and cheesy cards and all the rest of it. And that’s not me being embittered – the idea of love and celebrating what that means is wonderful, obviously, but Valentine’s Day just makes it all seem unnecessarily commercial and I think it demeans it a little bit. Anyway, some of my favourite songs are love songs – some of them as pessimistic as I can be, some of them far more positive and lovely, and I thought that I’d get over my pre-Valentine’s eye-rolling and share some songs about love with you:
A recent discussion of good music videos led to me recalling my love for Summer Camp‘s ‘Round the Moon’ video (below) – and, in turn, has led to the happy rediscovery of their debut EP, ‘Young’. There is something kind of exquisite about their incredibly dreamy brand of dazed pop; full of a warming, perfect sense of nostalgia for an era that isn’t even mine – though, in fairness, it’s not their’s either. Music as hazy and fuzzy as the polaroid cameras it references, there is something about it that’s really immersive and easy to get lost in. I love the Brat Pack allusions, the samples from ‘Say Anything’ and ‘Heathers’ and the stories of American house parties of the kind that seem to exist solely in ’80s and ’90s high school movies.
This EP was the beginning of the new wave of boy/girl duos making darling, romantic pop, but ‘Young’ stands out – not least as my favourite example of Summer Camp’s oeuvre.
It’s more than the strange evoking of another time, I think; it’s the reminder that the stories that Summer Camp are telling on their EP – the stories of being young – are sort of timeless. Whether you grew up in the ’80s or you’re going through that weird phase between being a teenager and entering adulthood now, I think there are always going to be the parties with questionable anecdotes; epiphanies about your life and your choices; ill-advised crushes and nights you stay up dancing and talking about nothing at all. And for that, I think ‘Young’ is an EP that encapsulates pretty perfectly what it set out to do. Beautiful.
